Binoy was not unfamiliar with this smouldering expression on Lalita’s face. But he had not seen this look for a long time. He had thought with relief that those bad days were over when Lalita was constantly up in arms against him, but now he found her producing the same fiery arrows from her armoury. The arrows had not rusted at all. Anger could be tolerated, but for someone like Binoy, contempt was hard to bear. He recalled the sharp disdain Lalita had once felt for him, taking him for a mere satellite of Gora. He was tormented to imagine that even now, his hesitation made him appear cowardly in Lalita’s eyes. He found it unbearable that though his sense of the constraints of duty may appear cowardly to Lalita, he would not have a chance to say even a few words in self-defense. To be denied the right to argue was a grave punishment for Binoy. For he knew he was a good debater, with an uncommon gift for presenting well-constructed arguments in support of a particular cause. But when Lalita quarreled with him she never gave him the chance to argue, nor would he have such a chance today.
The newspaper lay there still. Gripped by restlessness, Binoy pulled it towards him and suddenly noticed a certain section marked out in pencil. Reading, he realized that the discussion and moralizing there was directed at them both. He clearly understood the extent of the daily humiliation inflicted upon Lalita by the members of her community. Yet Binoy was making no effort to shield her from such dishonour, preoccupied only with fine arguments about social philosophy. Hence it seemed to him appropriate that a spirited woman like Lalita should treat him with disdain. Remembering Lalita’s boldness in her complete disregard for society, and comparing himself with this woman ablaze with fury, he began to feel ashamed.
After her bath, having fed Satish and sent him off to school, Sucharita came to Binoy and found him sitting in silence. She did not raise the former subject. Before his meal of rice, Binoy did not perform the gandush ritual of chanting mantras over cupped handfuls of water.
‘Tell me, bachha,’ said Harimohini, ‘you don’t observe any Hindu rituals after all, so what harm in becoming a Brahmo?’
Binoy was privately rather offended. ‘The day you take Hinduism for mere observance of meaningless purity-rituals, I shall adopt the Brahmo, Christian, Muslim or any other faith you please,’ he declared. ‘But I still haven’t developed such disrespect for Hinduism.’
Binoy emerged from Sucharita’s house in an extremely dejected frame of mind, as if he had been buffeted about in all directions and arrived at a void with no refuge. He could not claim his former place by Gora’s side, yet Lalita too was keeping him at arm’s length. Even with Harimohini, his close relationship was on the verge of rapid dissolution. Borodasundari had once cherished a heartfelt affection for him and Poreshbabu loved him still, but in return for their affection he had brought such turbulence into their home that he had no place there either. Binoy was always hungry for the respect and affection of those he loved, and he also had considerable power to engage their hearts in diverse ways. How he came to be suddenly cast out now from his familiar trajectory of love and friendship, was something he began to privately ask himself. Now that he had left Sucharita’s house, he could not think where to go next. Once he could have easily and unthinkingly made his way to Gora’s home, but now he no longer had natural access there as before. If he went there he must remain silent in Gora’s presence, and such silence was utterly unbearable. Meanwhile, Poreshbabu’s home was not easy for him to access, either.
‘How did I arrive at such an unnatural situation!’ wondered Binoy as he walked slowly down the road with bowed head. When he reached the Hedua pond, he sank beneath a tree. So far, whenever a problem had arisen, large or small, he had solved it by discussing it with his friend, arguing about it. But now that path was not open to him, and he must think for himself.
Binoy did not lack powers of introspection. It was not easy for him to absolve himself by blaming everything on outward events. Hence, thinking in solitude, he concluded that he alone was to blame. ‘In this world, I can’t afford to be so cunning as to have something without paying its price,’ he thought to himself. ‘Whenever we seek to choose something, we must renounce something else. A person who can’t decide to surrender any option will end up like me, rejected by all. Those who have firmly chosen their path of life are the ones who have found contentment. The unfortunate wretch who loves this path and that one as well, unable to deprive himself of either, is denied the destination itself, and is left wandering like a street dog.’
Diagnosing an ailment is difficult, but it is not as if treatment becomes easy as soon as the diagnosis is made. Binoy’s understanding was extremely sharp; it was power of action that he lacked. Hence until now he had depended upon his friend, a person of much firmer resolve. Ultimately, at this very difficult moment, he had suddenly discovered that even if one lacks will-power, one can handle small matters by borrowing from others, but in times of real need, one can never do business by proxy.
As the sun declined, the shade was replaced by sunshine. He now left his shelter beneath the tree and took to the road again. He had not gone far when he suddenly heard someone call:
‘Binoybabu! Binoybabu!’ The next moment, Satish came and grasped his hand. He was returning home from school after his lessons.
‘Come Binoybabu, come home with me,’ Satish pleaded.
‘How is that possible, Satishbabu?’
‘Why not?’
‘If I visit so frequently, how would your family members tolerate me?’
‘No, come with me,’ insisted Satish, deeming Binoy’s argument utterly unworthy of any reply.
The boy had no inkling about the immense revolution that had occurred in Binoy’s relationship with his family; he just loved Binoy. Realizing this, Binoy felt deeply perturbed. In the paradise that Poreshbabu’s family had become for Binoy, it was only in this boy that the quality of bliss had remained complete and unaffected. In these stormy days, no cloud of doubt had shadowed his mind, no social onslaught had tried to destroy his moorings.
‘Come bhai,’ said Binoy, putting his arm around Satish’s neck. ‘Let’s see you to your doorstep.’ Embracing Satish, Binoy seemed to feel the sweet touch of all the love and affection that Satish had received from Sucharita and Lalita since his infancy. All along the way, Satish’s unceasing, irrelevant chatter showered honey upon Binoy’s ears. In contact with the boy’s simplicity of heart, Binoy could briefly become oblivious to the complicated problems of his life.
They had to cross Poreshbabu’s house on their way to Sucharita’s. His sitting-room on the ground floor was visible from the road. When they arrived before that room, Binoy could not refrain from raising his head to glance at it once. He saw Poreshbabu at his table, but it was not clear whether he was speaking; and close to his chair on a small cane mora, her back to the street, was Lalita, silent as a pupil. Having no other means of quelling the petulance and wounded pride that had tormented her unbearably since she returned from Sucharita’s house, Lalita had crept to Poreshbabu’s side. There was such an air of perfect peace within Poreshbabu that the impatient Lalita sometimes came and sat quietly by his side, to control her own restlessness.
‘What is it, Lalita?’ Poreshbabu would ask.
‘Nothing, Baba,’ she would reply. ‘This room of yours is very cool.’
On this occasion, Poreshbabu clearly sensed that Lalita had come to him with a wounded heart. A feeling of pain had also made him inwardly depressed. Hence he had gently broached a subject that could lighten the burden of trivial personal joys and sorrows.
The sight of this inaudible dialogue between father and daughter brought Binoy to a momentary halt. He did not hear what Satish was saying. The boy was asking him a very complicated question about war strategy. He wondered what the chances of victory might be if one’s own side placed a pride of tigers in the frontline after giving them prolonged training. So far their question-and-answer session ha
d proceeded unhindered; now, at this sudden interruption, Satish glanced at Binoy’s face. Then, following Binoy’s gaze, he looked towards Poreshbabu’s room and cried out loudly:
‘Lalitadidi, Lalitadidi, look! I have captured Binoybabu from the street!’
Embarrassed, Binoy broke out in a sweat. Within the room, Lalita instantly sprang to her feet. Poreshbabu turned around to look at the street. Altogether, the situation took a dramatically awkward turn. Having dispatched Satish, Binoy stepped into the house. Entering Poreshbabu’s room, he found Lalita gone. Imagining that everyone saw him as a disruptive intruder, he awkwardly took a chair. As soon as they had finished exchanging customary polite queries about their mutual welfare, Binoy took the plunge:
‘Since I don’t respect the restrictions imposed by Hindu society and violate their laws daily, I consider it my duty to seek refuge in the Brahmo Samaj. It is from you I wish to receive my initiation.’
This desire and this resolve had not taken clear shape in Binoy’s even fifteen minutes earlier.
‘You have considered everything carefully I hope?’ asked Poreshbabu after a moment’s silence.
‘There is nothing left to consider,’ Binoy insisted. ‘One need only consider the fairness or unfairness of it. That is a very simple matter. Given our education, I certainly cannot honestly accept that mere rituals and restrictions constitute inviolate faith. That is why at every step my conduct shows a lack of decorum; by remaining involved with those who respectfully follow Hindu custom, I only succeed in hurting them. I have no doubt that this is extremely wrong of me. In these circumstances, I must be ready to abjure such wrong conduct, without considering anything else. Otherwise I cannot retain my self-respect.’
There was no need to explain at such length to Poreshbabu, but he said all this only to fortify himself. Declaring that he was caught in a battle between right and wrong and that he must sacrifice everything to ensure victory for what was right, he puffed his chest in pride. After all, he must sustain the dignity of human life.
‘In questions of religious faith, your opinions coincide with those of the Brahmo Samaj I hope?’ Poreshbabu inquired.
‘Truth be told,’ confessed Binoy after a short silence, ‘I used to believe earlier that I possessed religious faith of some sort, and I even quarreled with a lot of people on these issues. But now I have understood with certainty that in my life, the quality of spiritual faith remains imperfectly developed. This I have realized from observing you. I have never felt a true need for religion in my life and have developed no true belief in dharma. Therefore, all these days, I have used my imagination and debating skills to create fine arguments, reducing our community’s religious practices to mere rhetoric. I never need to consider which form of faith is true; the faith that brings victory to me is the one I have propagated. The harder it is to prove, the greater my pride in proving it. Even now, I can’t say whether spiritual belief will ever take root in my mind in a perfectly true and natural way, but given favourable circumstances and good example, I’m certainly likely to advance in that direction. At least, I shall be spared the degradation of forever carrying the insignia of something that inwardly perturbs my intellect.’
As he spoke to Poreshbabu, Binoy began to concretize the arguments favouring his own present situation. He spoke with much enthusiasm as if after long debate he had arrived at this firm, definite conclusion. Still Poreshbabu urged him to take some more time to consider. Imagining that Poreshbabu had doubts about the firmness of his resolve, Binoy grew even more obdurate. He reiterated that his thoughts had arrived at a point beyond all doubt, that there was no likelihood of his wavering in the slightest. Neither side mentioned the subject of his marriage to Lalita.
Borodasundari now entered the room to perform some household chore. Completing the task at hand, she prepared to leave the room as if Binoy was not present there. Binoy had expected Poreshbabu to immediately send for Borodasundari to tell her the latest news. But Poreshbabu said nothing at all. Actually, he had not even judged the time ripe for disclosing the matter, still keen to keep it concealed from everyone. But when Borodasundari, exuding contempt and rage against Binoy, was about to leave the room, Binoy could not contain himself. With bent head he touched Borodasundari’s feet as she was about to depart, and said:
‘I have come to you all today with a request to join the Brahmo Samaj. I’m unworthy, but I depend upon all of you to make me worthy.’ Hearing this, the astonished Borodasundari turned around, and slowly came into the room. She looked questioningly at Poreshbabu.
‘Binoy requests intitiation,’ Poreshabu informed her.
Hearing this, Borodasundari felt the triumph of victory indeed, but why was she not completely happy? Inwardly, she keenly desired that this time, Poreshbabu should really learn a lesson. Having repeatedly and vehemently predicted that her husband would have cause for deep remorse, she was privately losing patience with Poreshbabu for not being sufficiently perturbed at the turmoil within their community. At this point, Borodasundari did not feel unalloyed pleasure in finding all their problems so nicely solved.
‘If this proposal had come a few days earlier, all of us would have been spared so much humiliation and suffering!’ she pronounced severely.
‘Our pain, suffering or humiliation is not the issue here,’ Poreshbabu reminded her. ‘Binoy wants to be initiated.’
‘Initiation, is that all?’ Borodasundari demanded.
‘The all-knowing One knows that your suffering and humiliation are also entirely mine,’ Binoy assured her.
‘Look here, Binoy,’ cautioned Poreshbabu, ‘don’t trivialize the fact that you are seeking initiation into dharma. I have told you this once before—don’t take any serious step just because you imagine we are caught in a difficult social predicament.’
‘True indeed,’ assented Borodasundari. ‘All the same, it’s not his duty either to sit idle after getting us entangled in a net.’
‘If one struggles instead of remaining still, the knots in the net grow even tighter,’ countered Poreshbabu. ‘Not that action is itself a duty; often, our greatest duty is to do nothing at all.’
‘That may be true,’ said Borodasundari. ‘I’m illiterate, not always able to understand everything properly. But I want to know what’s been decided at present. I have lots to do.’
‘I shall join the faith on Sunday itself, the day after tomorrow,’ asserted Binoy. ‘I hope Poreshbabu …’
‘I can’t perform an initiation rite where my family may expect to benefit from it,’ demurred Poreshbabu. ‘You must apply to the Brahmo Samaj.’
Binoy at once grew hesitant. He was in no frame of mind to apply formally to the Brahmo Samaj, particularly when so much had been said by the community about his relationship with Lalita. Did he have the humility, or the words, to write to them? When that letter was published in the Brahmo newsletter, how would he show his face in public? Gora would read that letter, and so would Anandamoyi. There would be no other background information accompanying that letter; it would only publicize the fact that Binoy’s soul was suddenly thirsting for initiation into the Brahmo dharma. That was not entirely true after all. Unless this fact was seen in relation to other things, Binoy would be left with no shred of protection from shame. Observing Binoy’s silence, Borodasundari grew anxious.
‘But he knows nobody in the Brahmo Samaj,’ she argued. ‘We shall make all the arrangements ourselves. I shall send for Panubabu right away. There’s no time left, Sunday is the day after tomorrow.’
Just then they saw Sudhir pass by the room on his way upstairs.
‘Sudhir, Binoy will join our Samaj the day after tomorrow,’ Borodasundari called out to him.
Sudhir was delighted. Being secretly devoted to Binoy, he was greatly enthused to hear that he would become part of the Brahmo Samaj. Binoy’s written English was so fluent, he was so well read a
nd intelligent, that Sudhir used to consider it extremely inappropriate for him not to be a member of the Samaj. Having found proof that a person like Binoy was unable to remain outside the Brahmo Samaj, Sudhir swelled with pride.
‘But what can we accomplish by the day after tomorrow?’ he protested. ‘The news would not have reached many people by then.’ Sudhir wanted to proclaim Binoy’s conversion to the general public, by way of example.
‘No, no, it will be done this very Sunday,’ Borodasundari insisted. ‘Run along, Sudhir, fetch Panubabu quickly.’
As for the unfortunate wretch whose example Sudhir excitedly wished to publicize as proof of the Brahmo Samaj’s invincibility, his heart was by then cringing in acute embarrassment. Seeing the outward appearance of something that he privately regarded as little more than mere rhetoric, Binoy grew desperate. As soon as Panubabu was sent for, he rose to take his leave.
‘Wait a bit,’ pleaded Borodasundari. ‘Panubabu will be here in no time. He won’t take long.’
‘No,’ insisted Binoy, ‘please excuse me.’ He was desperate to escape this confinement, for a chance to think things over carefully in private.
As soon as Binoy stood up, Poreshbabu arose as well. ‘Binoy, don’t do anything in a hurry,’ he urged, placing a hand on his shoulder. ‘Be calm, be steady, and think over everything. Don’t proceed with such an important step in your life without fully understanding your own mind.’
‘First, nobody thinks before acting!’ protested Borodasundari, secretly very displeased with her husband. ‘They create a mess, and then, once the situation becomes suffocating, you say, “sit down and think!” You people may think calmly, but we can’t bear it anymore.’
Sudhir accompanied Binoy out into the street. He was restless, like someone longing to taste the food even before sitting down to a meal. He wished he could drag Binoy at once to his own circle of friends, to break the good news and begin the celebrations. But the onslaught of Sudhir’s elation disheartened Binoy even further. When Sudhir proposed: ‘Binoybabu, why not come with me? Let’s go to Panubabu, the two of us together,’ Binoy ignored his words and snatching his hand away, he left the scene. He had gone only a short distance when he saw Abinash hurrying somewhere with a couple of members of his group.
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